The American Journalist
by StarlingStorm
Summary: Yuri Gagarin was the first man in space, and one American Journalist has some questions.  For the Cuban Missile Crisis event that the Russ/Amer community hosted back in October.


Everyone was in their proper places. Cameras silently flashed and a occasional cough was heard among the seated. It was a big moment in history for Russia. Yuri Gagarin had become the first man in space. He was up there for one hour and forty-eight minutes. After he returned to earth, he was hailed as a hero and had been touring different countries to share his wonderful experience.

Yuri stood at the podium, smiling brightly at his audience. Seated behind him was the Russian President himself, Nikita Khrushchev, accompanied by other officials and one rather large Russian man with shining violet eyes.

Yuri Gagarin spoke a quick sentence in his native tongue and waited.

"He will take any questions you might have now." The translator responded kindly in both English and French.

No one made a move. Eyes darted from side to side and the creak of chairs was the only noise as people shifted. They were too nervous or shy to go first. Most of them were new journalists and reporters.

"I have a few!" A voice laughed out.

The Russian President look startled and glanced to the side at the violet-eyed man whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

Yuri smiled as the sole journalist stood up in a casual business suit, tie loose around his neck. The journalist flashed a grin, his too bright blue eyes seeming to shine.

Yuri uttered a question and the violet-eyed man scooted forward in his chair, eyes locked on to the journalist.

"What is your name, young man?" The translator spoke out.

The sunflower-blonde haired man chuckled and gazed past Yuri to the glaring man seated behind.

"My name's Jones. Alfred F. Jones and it's an honor to meet you." America smiled sweetly and trained his eyes back to Yuri. "I'm a journalist for the Washington Post."

Yuri's eyes widened but he quickly had his smile back in place.

"What would you like to know?" The woman translated for Yuri.

"I heard you were in the Air Force, does it compare at all to your experience in Space?" America asked earnestly. After all he had been quite the pilot in World War II.

Yuri nodded as the question was relayed to him in Russian and then broke into a smile. He spoke in a dreamy voice, dipping occasionally into a more serious one. When he finished, the message was translated to English.

"It is all that I imagined and more. Flying in the Air Force had me reaching high speeds, but going up into space was another thing entirely. They both posses great risks, but in the end, after all my training, I think it was most definitely worth it. Seeing earth from up above, I then realized how much bigger everything is up there, and how small we really are."

America smiled both a look of sadness and jealousy in his eyes.

America opened his mouth to ask another when a accented voice spoke out from behind Yuri.

"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Jones, only one question per person, or else not everyone will get a turn."

America snapped his mouth close and glared as the broad Russian stood up.

"I didn't hear that being stated at the beginning of this interview, Braginski."

The audience, as well as Yuri, looked back and forth between the two men in confusion and caution.

"Yes well, you would tune out certain things you didn't want to acknowledge, wouldn't you?" Russia purred out.

America gritted his teeth then the one-hundred watt grin was back in place. "Like you will do the same when we go and land on the moon?"

Russia barked out a laugh and tilted his head. "I doubt you will accomplish such a thing. You haven't been the first in anything to do with Space. It must get you all twisted in a bundle to know that the mother country is always ahead."

America shrugged his shoulders, "You laugh now, but just you wait!"

"I'm sure." Russia said sarcastically.

America narrowed his eyes and was about to give the commie a lesson in manners when a soft angry voice trembled out.

"Alfred Jones. Please leave this room immediately."

America stiffened up and turned to face the exit of the room. There stood his twin brother, giving him a glare to rival Russia's, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Oops. America gave his brother a sheepish look and shuffled down the row of seated journalists muttering apologies as he went.

"See you at the next meeting of another Russian accomplishment, Mr. Jones."

America counted to three in his head and let out a breath. It would not be good to blow up in front of a man he admired. Not that he would ever admit that to Russia.

"You wish, Braginski."

With that being said, he was led out of the room firmly by his brother, who did not want a similar disaster, like the Sputnik event, to occur.


End file.
